


The Devil's in the Details

by theskywasblue



Category: Inception
Genre: Gen, M/M, Mind Games
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-15
Updated: 2012-01-15
Packaged: 2017-10-29 14:52:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/321052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theskywasblue/pseuds/theskywasblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every gambler has a Tell</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Devil's in the Details

**Author's Note:**

> I blame this all on [](http://kansouame.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**kansouame**](http://kansouame.dreamwidth.org/) \- by which I mean, she's a lovely human being, who gave me feedback and even did a podfic of this, which you can download [Over here](http://www.mediafire.com/?unha83rh6dsnqlb). Go show the lady some love!

“You always know,” Ariadne says, as Arthur’s head turns towards the sound of laughter. The lobby is sun-drenched and crowded; the skylight casts the shadow of dinosaur bones across the mosaic floor tiles and the shadow of the Tyrannosaurus Rex’s skull is falling directly across the vinyl-covered bench where they sit – he thinks they must look incongruous together, Arthur in his perfectly-pressed suit and Ariadne in her ESA sweatshirt and favourite jeans that show both her knees – so they don’t seem exposed, even in the center of the lobby.

“Know what, exactly?” Arthur asks, eyes tracking the tour group as it moves past: two-dozen Catholic school girls in plaid skirts and summer blazers.

Ariadne’s smiling when she says, “Exactly which one he is.”

The group moves past, all lilting laughter and legs that look too long in their knee-high socks and skirts hemmed within a fraction of an inch of the minimum length; Arthur does his best to keep his eyes from fixing on any one, in particular, but there’s a flash of blonde hair, and a particular swagger, that keeps drawing his eyes like a magnet.

“C’mon,” he says, hands tucked tight into his pockets as he stands. He doesn’t need to check his watch to know that their mark is going to be coming through high-arched entryway just as the pretty blonde in her one-inch-too-short-for-regulation skirt slips away from her tour group and into the Hall of Ancient Mammals. “It’s time to go.”

“Was I not supposed to point that out?” Ariadne says, keeping two steps behind him with her eyes on the back of his head. As the architect, she could probably walk this setup blindfolded. “I know you guys have some kind of unspoken rule about it.”

“Do we?” Arthur keeps his voice light, slides up under the Sabre-tooth Tiger display. Eames is pretending, two displays over, to admire the Mammoths, leaning just a little on the barrier around the display. Cobb is on a cell phone, in the corner by the archway that leads to the Ancient Egypt display; he meets Arthur’s eyes, cocks his head to the left, towards the mark, coming in through the door. “I didn’t notice,” Arthur finishes.

Ariadne snorts, “Right – like you _wouldn’t notice_.”

The mark’s eyes scan the room and find Eames, locking on like twin lasers. As he crosses the marble floor and bends close to Eames’ ear, Arthur tells himself it’s not jealousy that sears in his gut, but concern. This is dangerous. In a court of law, it would be called “entrapment” – but no one is judging George Haley here, except possibly George Haley himself.

“I mean, I’ve seen you do it at least a dozen times,” Haley bends over Eames’ shoulder, says something that makes him laugh – high, but not obviously false; nothing about Eames is obviously false, even when it is. “Cobb says you do it all the time.”

Arthur has an answer for that, but he’s watching Eames’ lips – reading – Eames is playing innocent pretty well. Haley is probably smiling as he puts his hand on the small of Eames’ back. When he leans in to try and kiss Eames on the cheek, he ducks away – in a movement calculated enough to look both bashful and enticing. He catches Arthur’s eye before he turns toward the Ancient Egypt exhibit, and something that’s undeniably wicked alters his expression. There’s a sway to his walk that even Ariadne recognizes.

“Jesus – what a show off.”

“We all have our moments,” Arthur says, and when he smiles at her, she turns a little red, probably thinking of inverted cityscapes.

“I just want to be able to spot him too,” Ariadne finishes, “if I need to.”

Cobb follows Haley into the gallery first, while Arthur and Ariadne trail behind for the agreed-upon three minutes, studying the diorama of early man on the hunt.

“Eames is a gambler,” Arthur says finally, “and every gambler has a Tell.”

“So...what’s his?”

When they slip into the next gallery, Eames is coaxing Haley through the displays, all bright smiles and gentle hands. Haley looks a little bit afraid, maybe from whatever they’ve been talking about, and his lips are shaping something that looks like _It’ll be okay, I promise._

Eames says something – his face is obscured, but the whisper of breath carries in the high-ceilinged room – and Haley looks across the gallery, to a small gold chest, contained under glass.

Across the gallery, Cobb mouths _Got it._

Five minutes later, Arthur sits up, looks across the motel room at Eames and breathes out, “ _Really?_ ”

“Darling,” Eames purrs, sitting up and stretching out his arms, joints popping, “I wasn’t going to go so far as to actually _kiss_ him.”

“I have clearly missed something,” Yusuf says, and Ariadne makes a _don’t talk about it_ face as she pulls her IV line. Cobb is already making his getaway, muttering about finishing the job. George Haley is still under, thanks to Yusuf’s latest compound and they should have twenty minutes to slip out before he comes around.

Eames grins, unrepentant, “But surely you knew that. Every gambler has a Tell, after all.”

Arthur swings his legs over the side of the bed and stands, smoothing the wrinkles out of his suit, “And I won’t tell you what yours is, Mr. Eames. Maybe you and Ariadne can put your heads together on that.”

She’ll get it before he does, Arthur thinks; and Arthur would bet money on her keeping it to herself when she does, if only to get under Eames’ skin – at least for a few days. Once she lets it slip – and she will, because Eames can earn almost anything from her with a laugh and a good glass of wine – Eames will pour everything into writing that particular Tell out of existence.

Then Arthur will learn the new one, as easily as he’s learned all the others.

And Eames will let him.

-End-

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] The Devil's in the Details](https://archiveofourown.org/works/350756) by [kansouame](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kansouame/pseuds/kansouame)




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